


Deadweight

by MercuryMapleKey



Category: Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Bullying, Drabble, M/M, writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/pseuds/MercuryMapleKey
Summary: Kickback knows what his worth is around this joint, he knows that he's going places and it's only a matter of time before the big bosses at the top know that too. It's just too bad that no one else seems to share that perspective... least of all his most current colleague.





	Deadweight

**Author's Note:**

> Just bugs picking on twitchy manic little bugs. The prompt for this one was "Things you said through your teeth" And Kickback is my favourite because he's beautiful and weak and i want to see him get bullied forever. This was very self-indulgent.

“So the bosses put us together for this one, eh? Whadd’ya think, partner?”

Personally, he hates Saberhorn. Hates his pretty frame, his fancy accent, hates the way he carries himself like he thinks he’s hot slag. He ain’t. He’s in as much hot water for fragging up his last mission as Kickback is for… whatever it is that he did wrong this time. That’s why the big bosses stuck ‘em together, after all. But what Kickback hates the most is the fact that Saberhorn refuses to acknowledge him.

He hops forward a few paces, so Saberhorn isn’t ahead of him anymore, so he’s got no reason to ignore him, and grins up at his partner amicably. Nervously. Not that he’s got any reason to be nervous. “Y’know, between the two of us those Autobots wouldn’t stand a chance.” He’s gotta say something, doesn’t like it when it’s too quiet. The empty praise tumbles out of his mouth on autopilot. “We’ll be back up on the top in no time.”

Saberhorn sighs, terse and annoyed like _he’s_ the one who’s gotta deal with an absolute crankcase every cycle. It’s the only warning Kickback gets. When Saberhorn turns his optics on him his glare is hard and cold. Cruel.

“Whoever are you talking to?”

Oh, yeah. The newest rule he rolled out a couple cycles ago. Kickback laughs ‘cause he’s got no other option. He knows what’s coming and he’s got no way to stop it. He tries anyways.

“Well, y’know, I figured ‘cause we’re away from the ship…” And ‘cause they are supposed to be working together, and ‘cause it shouldn’t fragging matter who he talks to, but Kickback doesn’t mention that. He doesn’t get the chance to either before his partner is cutting him off with a sharp click of his glossa.

“It’s not about status, but _worth_.” For a pompous glitch Saberhorn’s got a way of making himself out to be formidable. He’s taller. He stares down at Kickback like he’s nothing but an oil-stain at his pedes, and Kickback has to clench his dentae behind a closed mouth. “Tell me,” Saberhorn starts, “when, if ever, have you done anything to prove yourself worthy?”

Kickback scowls. He’s worthy. He knows he is. No one sticks around for long if they ain’t useful, and Kickback is a model lackey. If the big bosses don’t love him for that yet, they will soon. Any day now.

So he’s smirking a bit when he thinks up his answer, leg twitching behind him sporadically. He’s got something Saberhorn doesn’t. “Outta the two of us, I’m the one who completed his last assignment.”

For a second, Kickback watches the disgust on Saberhorn’s perfectly smooth faceplates turn a shade darker, then he’s not seeing nothing no more except the bark of the tree Saberhorn’s pinned him against – arm wrenched roughly behind his back. Shoulda seen that coming.

“Hey, hey!” Kickback winces as the pain radiates up his arm, across his faceplates, his legs twisted in an uncomfortable stance beneath him. “Didn’t mean it like that Saberhorn, I’m just sayin’ ‘cause we’re partners.”

“You’re not a partner, you're a pest.” Saberhorn shoves his faceplates further into the bark and Kickback stumbles because his frame isn’t really built to bend that way, half kneeling in the soft earth. It’s not the first time. Kickback doubts it’ll be the last, too.

“Do you want to know the real reason I’ve been saddled with you?” Saberhorn asks derisively. Kickback’s got his own ideas, but his _partner_ isn’t about to let him keep ‘em. Instead he leans in and speaks low and cultured against Kickback’s audio, a heavy weight against his back. “It’s because you’re a liability. A liability no one else has the patience to deal with. Why, Glowstrike and Scorponok can’t even send you off to run a few errands without you bringing home unwanted guests.”

He’s talking about that Steeljaw mech, and Kickback wants to deny him, wants to tell him exactly what he thinks of that sleazy, double crossing con, but the thing is Saberhorn’s always been intimidating. He’s strong, and fast, and he fights with finesse. He knows exactly where to stand so that Kickback can’t retaliate against him with his own back kick. So Kickback usually plays placating when it comes to the beetle. Usually just submits and tells him what he knows he wants to hear, does what he wants him to do, too. Saberhorn’s getting more demanding these days, though. Losing patience with him. Kickback’s been there before and the thought of it has him backpedaling manically. He hates him.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant!” Kickback nods shakily, feels his one optic twitch. “That’s why I work so well with ya.”

Wrong thing to say. The sharp edge on Saberhorn’s helm finds its way against his neck and a shudder wracks through Kickback’s entire frame. He lets loose a frenzied laugh on instinct and changes it up.

“— _For_ ya, I mean. ‘Cause, ya know, you always know the best calls to make. You’re a natural.”

Saberhorn’s supposed to be one of the more friendly cons on the ship. He’s sporting, and devious, and always up for a good challenge. Kickback’s never seen that side of him though. All he gets is cruelty. Saberhorn presses closer, increases the pressure on his arm and faceplates and legs until Kickback is whimpering in shaky sporadic sounds. He lingers too long, ‘cause he likes hurting him maybe, ‘cause he likes hearing him – wings fluttering a heavy beat in the air.

“You would do well not to forget your place.” Saberhorn hisses into his audio at long last and Kickback bites down on his lip components and tries not to move. His plating feels like it’s on fire, and his reply is a groan:

“You got it. You’re the boss, boss.”

When he’s finally let up again Kickback feels like a nervous wreck, bouncing his back leg, and gritting his dentae together. There’s no reason for it. He knows his place. Knows he belongs at the top. Knows it’s only a matter of time before they all start appreciating him around here – present company included.

But Saberhorn’s already leaving, lifting into the air in his insect mode, speaking to him like he’s once again little more than a nuisance, “If we run into the Autobots again, you’ll stay back and let me handle them” he orders. “Bumblebee is my adversary after all. It’s bad enough that I’m already burdened with such dead weight.”

“Yeah, sure! No problem!” Saberhorn turns his back, and Kickback’s toadying grin turns into a grimace. He hates that bug. Hates the way he speaks to him. Hates the things he makes Kickback do just to get by – just to get a little acknowledgement.

“Yeah…” he grumbles, massaging his sore shoulder joint. “I got yer dead weight right here.”

Someday he’ll get even.


End file.
